


The Difference Between Territory, Property And Family

by thecattydddy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Conquistador!Spain, Gen, Shitty Writing, Slightly offensive language, Spanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecattydddy/pseuds/thecattydddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio doesn't view the little nations he collects as anything besides conquests, but it's very different for Arthur. </p>
<p>For him, Alfred is much more important than a little territory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference Between Territory, Property And Family

Alfred was a wanderer. He felt the whole world was his playground. Arthur had never given him boundaries and so he just went, occasionally being gone for a day or two if his travels took him that far. Despite being small, they both felt he could care for himself and he was always home when Arthur needed him, so to ever think there was something wrong was pointless.

It was a late day in September, one in which the temperature was just beginning to drop and he'd been forced into a coat before being let out. It was itchy and Alfred didn't like it, but as the cool air swished through his hair, he was grateful. The pastures had long since torn away into deserts and forests. Finally, he began to recognise civilisation. Arthur was always very. Careful to keep him away from the natives he'd grown up with, but these people didn't look like them. They certainly didn't look like the English, however, and Alfred found himself curious.

Wandering into the village proved to be a great thing. The words they spoke were unlike anything he'd ever heard and their olive skin made his look paler than Arthur, but he found himself laughing with a group of children in no time, undeterred by the barrier of language.

"¡ _Marco_!" a female voice called to her child, " _¡Cena está lista!_ "

" _Adios,_ " a small boy waved to his friends, disappearing. Shortly after all the other kids left, the last one being a little girl names Maria. In the end, Alfred sat alone on a hillside, beneath a tree.

" _Chico,_ " a voice startled him, " _¿Por que estas fuera tan tarde?_ " Alfred turned to look at him, curiously.

"Huh?" he stared, confused. The man was much taller than him - Taller than even Arthur, probably - and had skin like the others. His hair was dark and messy and he wore a simple loose shirt, tied at the collar with some kind of string. The rest of his outfit wasn't much to look at either, but it fit him. The most prominent feature was the brilliant green eyes that were trained on him. They reminded him of Arthur.

"You have pretty eyes," Alfred stated, startling the man.

"¿ _Ingles_?" he questioned, " _¿Donde..._ Er. Where did you learn something like that?" His translation was not the best and the words were heavily accented with the tongue of another, but it was English that came out of the man's mouth and he was overjoyed.

"Arthur taught me!" Alfred explained, "He's taught me a lot of things, you know. He's got another name, though... People know him by that a lot better."

"Arthur," the man scowled, turning to the side. That was the name of a rival of his. The likihood of it being the same man were slim to none, but it still flared up a little anger, "That's an English name. You wouldn't happen to be a colonist?"

"Well... Sort of," Alfred tapped his chin in thought, "He calls me his little colony sometimes, but..." At this, the man turned back to Alfred, eyebrows furrowed.

"This Arthur... His other name wouldn't happen to be _Inglaterra_ , would it?"

"I don't know what that means," Alfred frowned.

" _Lo siento._ My bad," the man corrected himself, "England is what I meant to say."

"Yeah!" Alfred jumped up to his feet, "That's him!"

"Hmm," a cold smirk spread across his face as a plan formulated, "Which means you... Must be America, _¿sí?_ "

"Yeah! But you can call me Alfred," he insisted. The man didn't respond, simply picked him up by the collar and held him up to be level with his face, "Hey! Lemme go!"

" _Me llamo España,_ " the man stated, "My name. And you, _mi amigo pequeño_ , are going to belong to me."

* * *

 Alfred sniffled, pulling his single blanket up to his chin. Thunder crackled outside and he shivered, pulling his blanket tighter around his small frame. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. All around him were mean looking people who glared at him whenever he let out a shout at the sound. It was supposed to be about midday, but the dark storm clouds blocked out any hope the sun may have brought him.

When he'd been tossed in here, the nation he'd come to know only as España or Antonio had told him to behave himself and to play with his new family. The door lock clicked and it refused to budge. Around him was silence bar for the sound of the storm outside and the occasional sniffle from another young boy or girl. He was just about to give up hope entirely when a loud banging came from the direction of the other room and someone cursing in that strange foreign language.

" _¡Veniendo!_ " Antonio yelled at the angry door, " _Un momento_." Alfred was shoved back as many curious kids hustled to the door, listening intenty. It wasn't as if he needed to, though. The person who'd arrived was loud enough.

"Spain you barbaric bastard!" Arthur stormed through his door, face dripping with rain and snarling, "I know you have him, now give him back!"

" _No sé_... I don't know what you're talking about, _Inglaterra,_ " Antonio insisted. Those listening began to whisper in their strange language, but not Alfred. He was instantly aware that Arthur was looking for him and began to call out, pushing his way to the door for his caretaker.

"Arthur! Arthur, help!" another sound crackled outside and he screamed, felling very insecure without his blanket, all of a sudden.

"Alfred!" Arthur's head shot towards the door a few feet away. He returned his gaze to Antonio, promising death with his eyes, "Let him out."

"Make me," Antonio challenged, a cocky smirk on his face. Arthur drew his sword, surprising them both, but he trained it against the Spaniard's throat, regardless.

"Let. Him. Out." They stood there, glaring, and sending hateful waves towards one another. Finally, Spain held his hands up in surrender.

"I don't see what you're so bent out of shape about," Spain stated, turning and shifting through his keys before pulling the one to the door off and opening it. Alfred scurried past his feet, holding his arms out. He glared at the others within lest they try to escape, "It's a bit of territory, not _tu madre_." He was surprised when he turned around to see Arthur drop his sword with a clang and kneel down to catch the crying colony in his arms. Alfred shook and Arthur rubbed circles into his back, whispering reassurance and apologies and other such things. Antonio considered taking the opportunity to try and disarm his rival, but he didn't have half a step forward before Arthur was standing, sword in one hand and Alfred held against his body with the other.

"You disgust me," Arthur hissed, fire of a centuries old dark magician burning in his eyes, "Just because you view your conquests as nothing more than cheap labour doesn't mean we're all heartless, Spain. If I find you even stepping within the same region as Alfred, you'll be begging me for a swift death."

"I don't get it," Spain voiced, "He's not yours and he's practically not even a nation worth remembering. Growing up out here with the natives has surely twisted him. Why do you care?"

"You wouldn't understand," Arthur growled, tucking his sword away and turning on his heel, "Evening, Antonio."

"Yeah. _Hasta la vista_ to you, too." Antonio really didn't understand as they left, Arthur pulling his jacket off to cover the tiny colony from the rain. Thunder still crackled overhead and he heard quiet whimpering from the small thing. The way that Arthur looked at him and cared for him, it reminded the Spaniard of...

Romano.

But certainly the Englishman couldn't possibly care for the savage the way that Antonio did for his Roma. No, that was ridiculous, unsanitary... Exactly something that vile little island nation would do.

Antonio slammed his door, returning to his previous task with a scoff.


End file.
